To make a long story short, I spent most of last week gallivanting around the state of California, which included a few days in San Francisco. I had planned this entire trip around one premise: watching the Rockies play the Giants at AT&T Park. I've been mulling over what I want to say in this post for several minutes now. In the end, I've decided that what happened to me on June 2nd is something that is truly beyond words.

I suppose you could say that meeting Ubaldo Jimenez took all coherent thought from me.

Sure, it was a meeting only in brief, but it has left a lasting impression on me. Here's how it happened: I was a determined little soul. I stood at field level down the first-base line and watched the Rockies from the moment they stepped out for warm ups. I was decked out in my Rockies gear and was one of the few people standing on the visitor's side of the field--my existence was obvious, as it were.

For the most part, I was ignored. I can understand, of course. The players are there to do a job which does not always include catering to an obsessive fan. But I had traveled all the way from Denver for this one moment. A part of me would be crushed if I slipped away with nothing while the entire Rockies roster stood twenty feet from me.

Of all the injustice, I had even bought a Sharpie in hopes of getting an autograph. A Sharpie emblazoned with the Giants logo. It had cost me a significant chunk of cash, I'm not going to lie.

The security folks at AT&T told me that I could hang around down by the field until the grounds crew took away the batting cage. One by one, the Rockies started to file away into the dugout, and the grounds crew came out. The moment of truth. Ubaldo was one of the last players to leave the field. His departure required that he pass in front of me.

I pleaded. The people with me pleaded, too.

Ubaldo looked over to us, and he seemed to hesitate. A second later, he pointed to a little corner of fence where the stands jutted out toward the field, and he began to walk over to it. 

Quite a few thoughts went through my head, most of them including words that I can't repeat here.

I pressed against the waist-high fence, leaning over in anticipation, grinning like I was a kid in a candy store.

He took my ticket and my Sharpie, and prepared to sign. I was gushing over him, and he was taking it all in stride.  I did something right then that I still can't believe. I asked him a simple question:

"Can I shake your hand?"

I was tense for a second, mentally berating myself. What the heck had I just done? But all that went away with one word: "Sure."

My hand, if I make a fist, is only slightly bigger than a baseball. His hands absolutely dwarfed mine. The handshake was ... gentle.

Of course, I was so twitterpated that I wasn't letting go of his hand, until the person who was with me at the game kindly reminded me that I needed to let go before Ubaldo could sign anything.

Sheepish, I let the good man go about his business. Suddenly, there were dozens of people at my back, nearly pushing me onto the field in an attempt to get Ubaldo's attention. I felt terrible! Here the kid comes over for a quick autograph with a Rockies fan, and suddenly half the population of the stadium wants a piece of his time. I apologized profusely.

He said: "That's alright," and proceeded to thank me. I was taken aback. Okay, it might sound a little contrived, but two thoughts went through my head at that point:

1.) Ubaldo Jimenez just thanked me.

2.) I just touched a hand that threw a no-hitter.

Okay, I lied. Three thoughts.

3.) Ubaldo Ubaldo Ubaldo Ubaldo Ubaldo Ubaldo Ubaldo Ubaldo Ubaldo Ubaldo.

I wished him success and took my leave. The start of the game, an eventual Rockies loss, sadly cut our time short.

To answer the obvious question, yes, I did wash the hand later that night. However, the Sharpie will never be used again. Knowing me, I'll stick it under glass with the autographed ticket--which, might I add, is sitting in a ticket holder on a Giants lanyard. I couldn't risk losing or bending it!

I'll always remember that night. The experience has forever cemented my position in the Ubaldo Fanclub. What an amazing kid, a gentleman, and a person deserving of all the praise in the world.

As promised, here are the photos. There aren't many, and they aren't going to win any photography prizes any time soon, but I would love to share them all with you, fellow Rockies fans.

His smile! Every time I look at this picture, I smile. It's contagious. 

Also for your viewing pleasure, a surprise cameo by Joe Beimel, giving a generous tip of his cap!

... Gee, despite saying that I can't think coherently about the experience, I sure turned out to be long-winded!